


022 - Love Confessions Under the Stars

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “hii love could you possibly write one where van and the reader start off as friends and the reader confesses her love for him under the stars xx”





	022 - Love Confessions Under the Stars

You met Van and Benji in high school. You didn't know who they were, and when they sat down in the chairs at your table in the library you were a little confused, but mostly uninterested. You looked up over your book at them, then back down. They seemed offended.

"Told ya she doesn't know who we are," the fuzzy haired one said. You would have laughed out loud, but you were trying to not engage.

"Hi Y/N," the other one said. He had a bad haircut and his two front teeth were rabbit-like. You looked back up over your book. "Um, you're the girl that records the school band and choir and shit, yeah?"

Yes. He was right. Most people stayed pretty clear of you. You were kind of a loner, which would have made you a target, but because the school needed your excellent audio/visual skills they upped the protection. You spent most of your time between the library and the sound lab.

Both boys continued to look at you. You shrugged and raised an eyebrow.

"Cool! So, uh, we're in a band," Bad Haircut said. You rolled your eyes. Here we go. "No! Don't roll ya eyes, love," Love?! Really. "We want to record a demo to send off to the record companies and stuff, and we were hopin' you'd help!" He did sound very hopeful. You lowered the book and looked at them.

"We can pay you," Fuzzy chimed in.

"When we get famous and sell out stadiums. Until then we will share our drinks and dope,"

"Van, she's like, fifteen,"

"Sixteen," you corrected.

You never worked out why you said yes, but the hours spent in a shed out the back of Van's parent's bed and breakfast were the absolute highlights of your teenage life. And, their demo did sound good, not amazing, but it was enough to get attention. The attention lead to more attention, and eventually the band got signed. When they had a good producer, and their first record was made, you were in awe of how far they'd come. 

One night, you sat on the grass between your old cubby house and the fence getting high with Van. His hair was a lot better than it used to be. You listened to Tyrants and Trippin' then the album version of Tyrants. You kept shaking your head, and he kept laughing at you. "It's like, not even one Pokemon evolution, it's like… you went from Diglett to like, Mewtwo?" you said.

"Wow, Y/N. Diglett?"

…

They took you everywhere they went. It was always Catfish, Larry and you. One of the family. Then, when all the commitments for The Balcony were over and they had time off, it felt wrong to be away from each other. You, Larry and Van rented a flat and spent most days playing Fifa. You baked a lot, and they were very willing to try any new recipe. It was mostly blissful, but every now and then when you were stuck picking up empty bottles on a Sunday afternoon while they were off at some record label meeting, you did question your decision.

As you watched all of them grow up, you did know you'd made the right choice. Bondy got weirder, and funnier. Bob stayed the cinnamon roll he was born as, but found himself and was happier. Benji stopped pretending to not be the biggest geek ever. Larry cut his hair and stopped wearing bandanas (that one took you a while to adjust to). Van… well he got hot. He also grew into a really sweet human being that cared a lot about the people around him. You didn’t have to remind yourself that you were lucky to be friends with them.

…

Of all the things you had never worked out about your decisions, your behaviour, your feelings, the thing that got you the most confused was when your friendship with Van stopped being enough. Somewhere between the nights crammed in the back of a small van together, and the record label after parties, a crush developed. And since then, the crush had without a doubt crystallized into love. You were deeply and unshakably in love with Van and it was terrifying. The scary part was born from the knowledge that Van probably didn't see you that way. He almost always had a girlfriend for the entire time you'd known him.

It was kind of beautiful to watch, if you were honest, Van's love for women. The girls were always sweet and kind, and you always got along with them really well. Your favourite thing about Van's girlfriends were that they weren't one 'type.' Some were tall, some short. Some thin, some lanky, some curvy, some chubby, some looked built enough that they could snap him in two (which he kind of loved). Some had strawberry blonde hair, some had hair darker than the night sky. He dated girls with every skin tone, and from every continent probably. One girl had come to a Catfish show and when the venue didn't have a designated space for her wheelchair, he brought her backstage to make up for it. They dated for a few months, and the boys gave him a lot of shit for dating a fan. His next two girlfriends were also fans, and eventually everyone accepted that Van McCann would not discriminate between girls that knew who he was and those that didn't. You didn't know if he discriminated between girls that were his best friend and those that weren't.

So, Van almost always had a girlfriend. This meant that when you were in Australia for a string of festival and side shows and Van was single, it was a rare thing indeed. Then, one day, as you found a patch of sun to stretch out in, Larry found you.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Please," you replied and patted the ground next to you. He lied down and looked up at the sky. For a while you pointed at clouds with each other and decided what they looked like.

"So… Van, huh?" Larry said, out of nowhere.

"What about him?"

"Are you going to tell him that you're in love with him?"

You almost choked. You made an awkward laughing sound and had to sit up or you'd swallow your tongue. Larry sat up too and watched you smirking. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, mate," you said but it didn't even sound convincing to you.

"Right. Of course. I just think that you probably should, yeah? While he's between substitutes,"

"Don't call them that, Larry. The girls he dates are always so wonderful,"

"Exactly. They're nice. Too nice to point out that he may be distracted by someone else. Too nice to put up a fight when he breaks up with them," Larry explained, and it sounded brutal. It made Van sound like a dick, and it wasn't fair to the girls.

"Whatever. None of that is true anyway," and you stood and walked away. Larry called after you that it was the truth but he was sorry. You didn't look back.

…

It complicated things. It really fucking did. Any chance you had at ignoring all the feelings was lost, and you avoided all of the guys for as long as possible. You even missed their set. You found an empty green room tent and lied down on the couch. It was were Van found you.

"Hey Y/N, where you been?"

You hesitated. "Around. Lots to see here, you know?" you replied. He looked at you and nodded.

"Yeah. Benji is out there playing that massive jenga game." There was a pause. You didn't say anything. "You missed our set," he said, sounding hurt.

"Yeah. I didn’t mean to. I'm sorry," like the unconvincing lie you told Larry, this too sounded insincere. Van scratched his head and chewed on his bottom lip.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He was always incredibly perceptive about your moods, but even if he wasn't the tension in the air was thick enough that he’d know something was wrong. You stood up and went to move towards the entrance of the tent.

"Yeah. I just need a minute alone," you said, and walked out. You heard him follow you, but you didn't know what you would say if you turned around. You kept walking until you were lost between tents.

"Y/N," Van called. You stopped.

In the distance you could hear a band playing from the main stage. Closer you could hear the chatter and laughter of everyone backstage. The air was warm and it smelt like grass and the thick plastic of the tents. You didn't want to look at Van so you let yourself sit on the ground. You looked up and the stars were bright. One of your favourite things about touring around with the guys was that wherever you went the stars looked different. There in Australia the Southern Cross constellation was brightest. Van sat down next to you, close enough that your sides touched. He took your hand and held it palm side up. He traced the lines and patterns, then threaded his fingers between yours.

"You gotta tell me what's wrong, Y/N,"

"Why?"

"Because what if I can fix it,"

"You can't,"

"I probably can," he replied. He was whispering, but he still sounded cocky. You dramatically rolled your head to look at him.

"You can't fix everything, Van. You can't do everything,"

"Yes I Van McCann," he said and tried to suppress a laughter. You were wondering how long he had waited to use that one. One of the greatest joys of Van's life was his name.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," you told him and looked away. He squeezed your hand and the moment of all the repressed-love-angst being forgotten due to his abject silliness was lost. Your nose started to tingle, like it always did before you cried. You sucked in your bottom lip and began to chew. That was a habit you picked up from him.

"What's wrong?" he asked again. You shook your head and pulled your knees up to your chest. You buried your face in your lap and took your hand away from his. "Y/N, please. Let me fix it," he said with urgency and care. It broke you, and you started to cry. You tried to do so quietly, but then you couldn't breathe. You had to lift your head for air. You looked back up at the sky. You began to count the stars as a distraction. You know, though, that he'd sit there all night if he had to.

"You can't fix it Van, because you're the problem," you probably could have worded it to sound less accusatory. You didn't look at him, but you knew that his face would show hurt. You didn’t want the guilt associated with that.

"I'm sorry?" The inflection on 'sorry' hooked up at the end like a question. Like he didn't know, which he probably didn't because as you had previously theorised, he didn't feel the same about you. You shook your head and went to move, but he grabbed your arm. "Y/N, listen, I… I'm gonna need more than that. Talk to me, please."

You knew you had to bite the metaphorical bullet, and you figured a small space between tents under the warm Australian night sky was as far away from home as you were gonna get. Might as well make this the place associated with the bad memory of the moment you stopped being friends with Van because of your own stupid fucking emotions.

"I'm in love with you," you told him. Your voice was as quiet as you could possibly make it. It was tiny and you were surprised that he heard you at all. You knew he did though, because he froze and it felt like the entire world stopped. Those stars though, they kept on twinkling and you kept your eyes glued to them like your life depended on it.

"I love you too," Van said. He wasn't whispering. The sentence didn't hook like a question. It wasn't an unconvincing lie. It was his matter-of-fact voice. You looked at him, then. His skin looked blue in the moonlight. "Yeah. I'm in love with you too. You're mad if you've ever thought otherwise, love," he said in a joking tone. Light. Calm. Happy.

"What?" you questioned, a little angry.

"What what?"

"Why didn't you say something?" you asked.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you had a million other girls so it seemed pretty fucking obvious that you didn’t want me?" Your voice was loud, and definitely angry. You stood up. He stood too.

"Yeah… I just… You've always been way cooler than me. It took me and Benji all day to work up the courage to talk to you at school. You're cuts above. I just figured you'd never be like, into me like that? Thought you thought of me as your weirdo brother or something?" he explained, shrugging.

"Oh my fucking god, Van," you rubbed your face and moved on the spot a bit. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

He grinned wide and chuckled. "This is good though, innit? We can proper date!" 

"You're a fucking idiot," you say shaking your head. You had not believed anything less in your entire life. You were smiling though. Van laughed again and pulled you into him. He held your face in his hands and kissed you.

The kiss felt like release. All the years you spent pretending it wasn't exactly what you wanted, exactly where you wanted to be... As he parted your lips with his tongue and moved his hands to pull you in tighter, you felt yourself melting into a better version of yourself. When you pushed him away to breathe, and to laugh again out of disbelief, you looked up. The stars were still sparkling and you knew that Australia would always be your favourite place to be. Well, second favourite, after Van's stupid Goddamn arms.

You looked back at him and he laughed again. He took your hand and started to lead you back through the tents. "You did miss the set on purpose, right?" he asked. He looked at you and you nodded. "So rude, Y/N."


End file.
